


Googliplier's New Home

by Jasper Kirby (blakesaregrates)



Category: Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Googleiplier - Freeform, M/M, On Hiatus, Synthetic robots, bad at tags, google irl, its mostly gen between the characters but might turn romantic? Idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11556312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakesaregrates/pseuds/Jasper%20Kirby
Summary: Chase is a mechanic that recently started specialising in robots and Synthetic Humans (or simply just 'synths'). He agrees to take one off some guy's hands, unaware of the ordeals that lay in store for him.(I'm always bad at summaries - read notes inside for context.)





	Googliplier's New Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, this little idea came to me a loooong time ago. I started writing it on my phone because I was super bored, and I just kept going back to it and editing it or adding more to it. I've finally reached a point where I'm happy to call it a chapter and I wanna start getting my work back out there. See what you thing, and enjoy!

Chase wasn't really a people person. It was the main reason he got into technology and robotics – why deal with human emotions when you could just bury yourself in wires and metal and computer chips? The only interactions he made were online. He had no friends or family to speak of, so he just kept to himself, in the basement of the building, holed up with his tools and his machines.

When Google announced they were releasing the first “smart robot”, Chase was immediately intrigued; a search engine, but as a synthetic human assistant? The tests he could run! The prototypes he could try! But, of course, they cost ridiculous amounts of money, and any second hand ones he found were broken beyond repair (who takes a robot into a sauna anyway?)

So instead, he becomes a synth mechanic – he just downloaded a PDF of the Google manual and studied it for a while. He advertised online, and in no time, he was being delivered faulty synths, fixing them up and sending them back. A lot of money came from fixing them up, but unfortunately a lot of money goes back into it: electric bills, buying spare parts, upgrading his tools, etc.

It's Saturday (probably), which meant that no work was scheduled for Chase to complete that day. Then, his phone rang. Naturally, he refused to answer it and just let it ring out. He listened to his own voice monotonously tell the caller that “if you wish for me to do work for you, leave a message entailing the details of the job, or contact me via email as instructed wherever you found my number”. Surprisingly, they left a message. A male voice, slightly higher in pitch than normal, spoke, sounding rather alarmed.

“ _Yeah um, I got one of those Google IRL things? Wait no, what are they actually called? I'm not really sure but yeah, I got one because they were cheap and I didn't read the manual properly and it’s broken and I honestly don’t want it so can I drop it off? I don't want it back- if you can fix it, you can keep it. It's a hunk of junk to me now. Please; I just want someone to take it off my hands. Okay thank you bye-_ ” and with that, the line went dead.

Odd. Very odd indeed. How broken was it? He’d fix it up and sell it on – that way he could definitely afford that new tool box he had his eye on, maybe get a few months ahead in his rent. He collected the number from his landline and sent a quick text.

‘ _ **I'll take that synth off your hands. Bring it over, leave it in the lobby. I'll see what I can do. How much you want for it?**_ ’

The reply was scarily instant.

‘ _ **I don't want anything for it you can have it for free just take it I'll bring it round within the hour**_ ’

Chase hadn't known what to expect. However, this wasn't it – the synth was slumped over in a chair, but it looked about average height. It appeared to be an American Male model, yet it had Asian features. He wondered if this really was a Google Bot or if it was a off-brand copy of one. It had black ‘hair’ that was awfully messy, tanned ‘skin’ that was torn and mottled in some places, and it wore plain jeans with a blue t-shirt that had the famous Google ‘G’ logo on it.

Chase tilted his head, frowning. How unusual – apart from the obvious discrepancies on the surface, it seemed to be alright.

He walked over, assessing it and making a mental list in his head of things he needed to fix. There were no missing limbs, no exposed wiring, no sign of anything being amiss except the glaring problem of needing new skin and maybe a bath.

He felt around the shoulder blades until he found the on button – a few clicks, the humming whir of a system booting itself up and then the eyes flew open, flashing a bright blue momentarily before dimming out to a deep chocolate brown.

The synth opened its mouth to speak – probably the usual start up gibberish – but the voice cracked, a spark flew out of a tear in the neck, and the bot’s face morphed into a frown.

“ _I a-appe-arrr t-o be-e fa-u-lty,_ ” came the distorted voice as it studied its own hands, prodding at a torn piece of silicon ‘skin’.

“You got that right, buddy,” Chase mumbled: it was worse than he thought.

The brown LED ‘eyes’ shot up to study him.

“ _You are not Mr Fredrick. Where is Mr Fredrick?_ ” it asked, tilting his head.

Chase sighed. He shouldn’t have booted this thing up – synthetic personalities were still as annoying and exhausting as human ones.

“He gave you up, buddy – I’m gonna look after you whilst I fix you up.”

The synth seemed to be studying Chase, and he really didn’t like it. Those eyes were so cold, so lifeless – it felt like they were staring right into his soul. Chase’s anxiety kicked in, and his brain entered fight or flight mode.

“Alright that’s enough of you for now,” he mumbled to himself, reaching around to switch the robot off.

Its mouth opened in protest but was interrupted by the power turning off – the mouth fell shut, the eyes flashed and then shut and the synth collapsed into the chair, slumped over once more.

Chase couldn’t help but ponder what sort of mess he’d gotten himself into.

**Author's Note:**

> Any criticism is very gladly accepted - I'm an aspiring writer who previously gave up completely on their work and now I want to see people's reaction to my writing so go ahead and leave a comment. Love it? Hate it? Don't really care about it? Leave me a comment telling me your opinions so I can work on improving my style. Thanks for reading!


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